


A Valentine's Accident

by Nebulaim



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Accident, Desperation, Other, Pants Pooping, Panty Pooping, Scat, Soiling, messing, pants messing, shitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulaim/pseuds/Nebulaim
Summary: Jill Valentine, the expert S.T.A.R.S member, has found herself in a dilemma. Stranded in a mansion deep in the forest, she has no choice but to fight for her life. And the worst part, she really has to shit.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	A Valentine's Accident

**Author's Note:**

> This one was really fun to write! If you would like to see the sketch to go along with the story (Drawn by me), please visit my Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Nebulaim>

Jill felt like she was going in circles. For what seemed like the hundredth time, she found her way back into the same room, the main hall of this accursed mansion. Taking off her ‘S.T.A.R.S’ beret, she wiped her brow of sweat and leaned against the railing at the top of the stairs with a sigh, licking her anxiety dried lips.

“This mansion is like a maze.. It’s a wonder how the people who lived here got around. Then again, with all of these monsters, I wouldn’t be surprised if most of those ‘things’ died of starvation and got reanimated after getting lost,” she whispered to no one in particular, shifting her weight onto her left foot. “I just wonder where Barry went off to. He said to meet back here, but I haven’t seen him since we’ve found Forest.” 

Placing her hat back onto her head, she descended the stairs, wondering which door to go through next. She weighed her options on the front door. Maybe she could make a run for it, get away from this madness and get some help? No, that wouldn’t do. The only thing that would accomplish is getting her throat torn out by those bloody dogs. Besides, she couldn’t up and abandon her investigation, and she certainly wouldn’t feel right abandoning her comrades still in the estate. 

She turned her attention to the set of double doors to her right. The main dining room. She recounted when she and Barry came across the bloodstain, and came across the first oddity the mansion beheld, a walking corpse. She could try searching there again, but deemed it a waste of time, at least for now. She had ran through that damned room multiple times, seemingly finding nothing besides an odd riddle besides the grand clock.

Before she could scout out another door, something stopped Jill in her tracks. A small, subtle, but all too familiar pain coursed through her lower abdomen, signaling movement. “Shit,” Jill bemoaned, groaning into her palms, “I’ve got to use the restroom.”

She was in a rush to get to the police department that day, being fashionably late as always, as Chris would say. And between doing a quick shower, (More like a soak than a shower) and brewing her favorite coffee, she was out the door, neglecting her rising need to shit. Her body had calmed after the brisk drive to the office, but now it seemed to come back to haunt her.

It was at this point that something dawned on the S.T.A.R.S operative. After the countless rooms she’s found, investigated and explored, she hadn’t seen a single bathroom. Really, not one? She knew the people who made this place had to be insane, but surely they still went to the bathroom.  _ ‘Unless they were so far gone they shat in the corner instead,’  _ Jill mused to herself. 

She needed to go, and fast. Therein lies the problem, however. Not seeing a single bathroom, and certainly not wanting to do her business outside, and sure as  **_hell_ ** not wanting to go on one of the mansions many floors, she anxiously tapped her foot and let out a scared moan. She began biting her thumb nail, eyes focused on nothing as she was lost in thought. The growing need to shit and no bathroom in sight caused a repressed memory to resurface.

_ Jill was young, still attending grade school. She was popular, smart, and had tons of friends. But one fateful day on the playground changed all of that. There she was, playing a game with her large group of friends, when seemingly out of nowhere she felt the intense need to use the bathroom. She held her tummy, dropping what she was doing and tried to remember where the nearest washroom was. Unfortunately, the sudden warning from her bowels came way too late. The pain was too much, and poor little Jill had to resort to bearing down and going in her pants.  _

_ Immediately once the other kids caught wind of what she had done, all hell broke loose. There was pointing, shouting, and even laughing while Jill stood there, tears slowly rolling down her red cheeks. Nothing could compare to the shame she felt that day as her ‘friends’ laughed. But what stuck with her the most was her new nickname, ‘Poopy Pants Jill’, a name that followed her to their senior year of highschool. _

“Mnng..” she moaned, placing her hand on her butt as the pressure of her need grew, snapping her out of her flashback. She absolutely had to find a bathroom, at all costs. Shaking her head out of her funk, she chose the one door she hadn't remembered entering, praying that she would find what she was looking for. Twisting the knob of the double doors directly east of the entrance, she made her way into a room with a statue of a woman drawing water. Although it was quiet, it was still unnerving. The dimly lit room was covered in strange, creepy art, the eyes of which seemingly following her every movement. Clutching her shotgun close, she drew deep breaths, trying desperately to keep her need to poop at bay. 

Not seeing much point to explore this room, or checking the small hall to the left, she made her way to the locked door to the right of it. After seeing the emblem of a sword on the knob, she quickly pulled out her recently found key and unlocked it, quickly scuttling into the next room. 

“Oooh, I really, really gotta go…” Jill mewled to herself, her hand still applying pressure onto her bubble butt in an attempt to keep everything in. Quickly assessing the brightly lit hallway, she began slowly treading her way down the checkered flooring, the only noise being her footsteps and the wind against the window panes. After rounding the first corner, and seeing nothing, she sighed, beginning to pick up the pace at the sign of no monsters. Boy, how unlucky she was.

As if on cue, with amazing timing, the window beside her burst open, a rabbid snarling piercing Valentine’s ears as she practically jumped ten feet (And almost lost control). Spinning around on her heels, she eyed the slobbering beast in horror, almost forgetting to act as her heart beat out of her chest. The rotting dog was pacing, never taking it’s sight off of Jill as it seemingly sized her up. Just in time, a pain in her belly reminded her of her need to go, and snapped her out of paralysis. As the dog pounced forward, she quickly lifted up her old, scavenged buckshot, and pulled the trigger, immediately blowing the monsters brains out. 

Although she did what she had to do to survive the encounter, she silently cursed to herself in regret. The recoil from her weapon had seemingly shocked her body, jostling her colon and further increasing her need to go. Dropping the gun and holding her stomach, she shifted from foot to foot, rubbing her ass as Jill performed a shameful potty dance in an attempt to get her need to go down.  _ ‘I’m not gonna shit myself, not here, not again. Oh please, please don’t let me shit myself..’  _ She could already hear the kids from her childhood calling out her nickname now. 

After the pressure seemingly went down a bit, she lowered herself down and reached for her shotgun. The simple motion caused her to almost lose it, poking a small turtle head as she lifted herself up. She had to go,  **Now.**

Keeping her left hand on her ass, she quickly made her way to the door ahead, her thick thighs squishing together to try and keep everything in. It was an embarrassing sight to see, she’s just glad none of her comrades were around to see Jill struggling, resorting to an obscene potty dance like a little girl. 

Past the door was another hallway with many corners. To her immediate right was a door, but a quick glance and the close howls outside quickly told her it wasn’t worth investigating. 

“Oooooh… I gotta go, I gotta go…” 

Her legs shuffling as she pushed herself forward, every step was agony. She could burst at any moment, filling up her jeans with a hot, brown, sticky mess. Another painful cramp in her belly caused her to step up the gear, rounding the corner and finding herself face to face with her savior, a door which read ‘Washroom’.

Biting her lip, she practically forced the door open. The bathroom was small, but a bathroom nonetheless. She immediately began to reach for her belt, not wanting to wait another moment. She felt like anything could cause her to have an accident, be it a monster or a blow of the wind. Her bowels groaned, seconds away from a steamy explosion. But of course, everything in this mansion was seemingly out to get her” 

“ **Aah!”**

Before Jill could even pull her jeans down, a rotted, bloated hand shot out of the murky water in the bathtub before her, causing her to fall back. She was so close, but oh so far away. Her ears seemingly rang as she began backing up toward the door, her hands on her stomach as her body finally betrayed her. 

The warm turtle head pressed up against her panties, sandwiched tightly between her asscheeks as her body pushed to be rid of the built up waste. Faint crackling and pops emitted from under Jill’s butt, her mouth gaping and her eyes closed as she shat in her pants. Moaning shamefully, she felt time stop as the warm mess slowly coiled up in her white panties, coating her once clean cheeks in brown fudge. The bulge in her pants grew, being weighed down by the massive amount of shit she was unloading into her trousers in a steady stream, her pants becoming squishy and hot. 

And to make matters worse, Jill’s pushing caused her bladder’s contents to empty as well. With a loud hiss, her inseam turned dark, a large growing patch signifying Jill urinating in her pants. The puddle grew under her as she groaned. This was absolutely the worst thing ever **.**

Her ass went into overdrive, the speed at which she shat doubled. Shit slithered out of her like a chocolate snake, rubbing against her anal walls as it added to the shitty mass in her impossibly ruined panties. After seemingly an eternity of her worst nightmare coming to haunt her, with a final, wet crackle, the torrent stopped. Her pants soiled, and her spirit crushed, Jill opened her eyes, quickly lifting herself to her feet once the zombie stumbled out of the bath, falling flat onto the floor before her and grabbing her ankle. 

With a startled gasp, she placed her hands on the counter behind her and attempted to shimmy her leg out of its grip. After successfully getting it to unhand her, she lifted her knee, and forcefully stomped it down on the zombie’s head, killing the monster instantly. Panting, she held her hand over her mouth, trying to keep her bile from rising up her throat. She didn’t know whether it was the smell of the corpse, or her own feces causing this reaction. Turning around quickly, the massive cow pat of shit squelching in her ruined pants, she opened the door, walked past the frame, and immediately slammed said door behind her.

“Ohhh.. eww…” Jill groaned, looking at how much of a mess her pants were. The front was completely soaked, the warm piss having flooded down both of her pant legs. It would be easy for anybody to tell she had an accident like a child. And if the front being wet didn’t give it away, the mess in the back definitely would. Jill looked behind herself, peering down at the damage. A massive dark bulge hung from her shapely ass, the jeans stained brown from the passive pile of poop steaming in them. She placed a tentative hand against the bulge, careful as to not squish it and cause it to force its way into other parts of her pants.

Sniffing and letting out a girlish whine, she began to bite on the thumbnail of her free hand once again. This was all too much for her. First bravo team, then this crazy mansion, and now she’s messed herself like a little girl again. Images of the last time she’s messed herself flashed before her eyes, she could practically hear all the laughing and name calling. She began to tear up.

“I-I’m not a poopy pants..” she mewled. 


End file.
